Cold contempt and hatred were sprinkled into those words. But there was something to the coldness that went beyond the kind of obvious hatred and indignation one would feel toward their oppressor. Something that left Lena confused and bewildered.
The following morning’s news once again spoke of how vast the enemy’s losses were, how light the damage to the Republic’s side was, and how there were—as always—no casualties. The announcer once again praised the Republic’s cutting edge and humane tactics, how the enemy’s defeat must be close at hand, and so on and so forth. Lena sometimes wondered whether the news was actually a recording being broadcast over and over. This was a government-sponsored broadcast, with an emblem of a sword and shattered chains in the background. These stood for the overthrowing of sovereign rule and the fall of oppression and were the symbol of Saint Magnolia, patron saint of the revolution.
“…In preparation for the cessation of hostilities in two years’ time, the government has decided to gradually reduce the military budget. As a precursor to that, the seventeenth ward of the southern front will be abolished, and all forces stationed there dissolved and discharged—”
Lena sighed. They probably surrendered the seventeenth ward. This certainly wasn’t the kind of news they could afford to simply gloss over. Not only had they lost territory, they were giving up on trying to reclaim it and choosing to disarm themselves on top of that. The government had used up all the Eighty-Six properties a long time ago, and now the voices of the civilians demanding they reduce the vast war budget and disarm in favor of welfare and public works were becoming gradually harder to ignore.
Sitting across from her, dressed in an antiquated gown, Lena’s mother opened her perfectly rouged lips to speak.
“…What’s the matter, Lena? Put away your troubles and have something to eat.”
The dining room table was set with breakfast, but the majority of it was factory-made synthetic food. Having lost half its land, the Republic was running out of space as its population increased by 80 percent—with the exception of the Eighty-Six. And the eighty-five Sectors didn’t have the farmland required to support the population. They were also cut off from other foreign countries by the Legion’s Eintagsfliege jamming, which meant that trading, diplomatic relationships, or even confirming whether any such countries still existed was impossible.
Lena took a sip of tea that was different from the tea she hazily remembered from the past and cut a piece of synthetic meat, made from wheat proteins and created to replicate natural meat’s appearance and flavor. The only natural thing about her meal was the compote she added to her tea, made from raspberries they grew in the garden. But even this was a commodity not seen in the Republic’s average household, which didn’t even have room for a flowerpot, much less a garden, making it fairly valuable.
Her mother smiled.
“Lena, isn’t it about time you quit the army and find a groom from a good family?”
Lena sighed internally. This conversation was repeated word for word every day, same as the news broadcast. Pedigree. Status. Standing. Lineage. Superior bloodline. This silk dress, which became antiquated and obsolete the moment you stepped outside. This mansion, built in the days when the Milizé household was still considered nobility. Preserved relics of a blessed era long gone, standing frozen in time, enveloping themselves in sweet dreams and refusing to look outside.
“The Legion and the Eighty-Six are hardly matters the daughter of the great Milizé household should concern herself with. I know your late father was a soldier, but the war is behind us now.”
How could the war be behind them if they were in the middle of fighting the Legion even now? The battlefield was just far and out of sight, and those who went to war never returned to speak of it. As far as the civilians were concerned, the war was nothing more than a collection of fictional events in a movie, with no sense of reality or involvement on their part.
“Protecting the motherland is a Republic citizen’s duty and pride, Mother. And please don’t call them Eighty-Six. They’re respectable citizens of the Republic, same as you and me.”
A wrinkle ran across her mother’s thin, refined nose.
“How can you consider them members of the Republic when they’re stained with those filthy colors? Honestly, even if you must feed livestock to have it do your bidding, what is the government thinking, letting those animals set foot on Republic soil?”
The Eighty-Six who agreed to engage in combat were granted the restoration of civil rights for themselves and their families. To protect them from the severe persecution and discrimination of the eighty-five Sectors, their whereabouts were kept confidential, but it’d been nine years since the beginning of the war. Surely some of them had returned to live in their old homes by now.
This was the just reward they received for their dedication to the state. Sadly, those in power could not see the justification for such a reward and merely shook their heads at the deplorable state of affairs.
“Ah, how dreadful. It was only ten years ago that they were loitering about Liberté et Égalité as if they owned the place. And to think, they may actually return… To what extent will our Republic’s freedom and equality have to be sullied before they’re satisfied…?”
“…If anything is sullying the ideas of freedom and equality, Mother, it would be the words you just spoke.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Seeing her mother’s astonished expression, Lena truly did sigh this time. She just didn’t understand. She honestly, truly, didn’t understand. And it wasn’t just her mother. Civilians throughout the Republic took pride in the five-hued flag and its values of freedom, equality, brotherhood, justice, and nobility. They believed they had learned from history and loathed tyranny, resented exploitation, scorned discrimination, and avoided murder and atrocities, seeing these as the devil’s deeds.
But they simply did not understand that the Republic was committing those very same atrocities right now. And if you were to attempt to point that out, they would merely look at you with pity and ask, “Can’t you tell pigs apart from people?” Lena bit her lip. Words truly were convenient. They could gloss over the truth so easily. All it took was a simple rewrite of a name tag, and you could reduce a human to a pig.
Her mother looked at her with a troubled expression but eventually smiled as if she’d come to a realization.
“Your father took pity on the livestock, and now you’re taking after him. Is that it?”
“N-no, that’s not…”
Lena did deeply respect her father, who’d greatly objected to the Eighty-Six’s internment until the very end. But she didn’t quite intend to follow in his footsteps. Because she could still remember that silhouette of a quadruped spider, the crest of a headless skeletal knight etched upon its armor, the extended hand that had saved her from disaster, those shades of brilliant red and jet-black he’d borne since birth.
✦ ✦ ✦
We are Republic citizens. We were born in this country and raised in this country. And that’s why…
✦ ✦ ✦
Her mother’s presumptuous voice pulled Lena out of her memories.
“But you should know, Lena. You should know to treat livestock as livestock. You simply cannot get those barbarian Eighty-Six to understand human ideals and nobility. It only makes sense that we confine them to their cages and manage their lives.”
Lena wordlessly finished her breakfast, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and stood up.
“I’m off, Mother.”